Both as a standalone and as part of the DSOTS album, you can take this lyric as read. As a matter of public record, Jourgensen's drug intake was legendary even in the 1980s. By the late 90s, in his own words, he was grappling with massive addiction issues and had lost almost everything: friends, spouse, money and had nearly died more than once. "Dark Side of the Spoon" is a both funny & sad title for an album made by a musical genius who was losing the plot; and this song is a message to his fans & friends saying he knows it. It's painful to listen to so I'm glad the "Keith Richards of industrial metals" wised up and cleaned up. Well done sir.
I had been spying for years
reversed my ears to hear the inside instead of out
fear and doubt proceeded discovery
I'd uncovered me, plenty of Hermes wannabes
lost their wings to the life mystery
History blisters me with truth and density
memories, like destinies
remain untouchable
the present presents presents
lessons to give or to receive? This question's evident
I am confident in my apparent specialist quest
agent intelligence
having already studied my own relovence
I remain anonymous You have not seen me
Mr. No Identity frequently spying your frequencies
Recording and deleting theories honestly
CHORUS
Casual
The hiss of this abyss is bliss
Casual
A ringing in my ears is refreshment
After a time of having my presence go unnoticed
the finest of gifts my cloak of mystery suddenly deserted me
The observer
now easily observed
was obvious due to an absurd onslaught of nerves
a bustle, a pound
my body found the ground
slowly surrounded by a society now spying me
Shall we try diplomacy?
My future looks bloody
I'd seen too much and for that I was hated
Yet their ideas I could not condemn
this amount of knowledge was the same reason I hated them
they cut off my tongue saying all senses are related
The crowd afraid of being incriminated
if I relayed these faded observations
I tasted blood
Then only black
was it a setback, the end the edge
a dive from the ledge
without my tongue's life
I am dead.
Incapable of suicide
these thoughts quickly died
if I jumped I would just fly, dip, and rise
And I did
back to consciousness
CHORUS
reversed my ears to hear the inside instead of out
fear and doubt proceeded discovery
I'd uncovered me, plenty of Hermes wannabes
lost their wings to the life mystery
History blisters me with truth and density
memories, like destinies
remain untouchable
the present presents presents
lessons to give or to receive? This question's evident
I am confident in my apparent specialist quest
agent intelligence
having already studied my own relovence
I remain anonymous You have not seen me
Mr. No Identity frequently spying your frequencies
Recording and deleting theories honestly
CHORUS
Casual
The hiss of this abyss is bliss
Casual
A ringing in my ears is refreshment
After a time of having my presence go unnoticed
the finest of gifts my cloak of mystery suddenly deserted me
The observer
now easily observed
was obvious due to an absurd onslaught of nerves
a bustle, a pound
my body found the ground
slowly surrounded by a society now spying me
Shall we try diplomacy?
My future looks bloody
I'd seen too much and for that I was hated
Yet their ideas I could not condemn
this amount of knowledge was the same reason I hated them
they cut off my tongue saying all senses are related
The crowd afraid of being incriminated
if I relayed these faded observations
I tasted blood
Then only black
was it a setback, the end the edge
a dive from the ledge
without my tongue's life
I am dead.
Incapable of suicide
these thoughts quickly died
if I jumped I would just fly, dip, and rise
And I did
back to consciousness
CHORUS
Lyrics submitted by Ender
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I definitely agree with chopstix719.
For anyone searching, here is the intro monologue: "Night after night it's possible to see, indeed, it's impossible not to see. These faces, from which hope and joy and dignity and light have been draining so steadily and for so long that now there is nothing left but this assortment of indifferent, damaged masks. They belong to human beings who, after a lifetime of struggling to become one thing or another, have succeeded only in becoming the rough sketches of their species. Recognizable but empty. The bruised and wretched bodies and souls of the saddest people on earth: the people who no longer care."